Waste Of Time !!!



You would have thought that after 5 yrs I would be used to the uncomfortable chairs and long tedious agonising waits for hospital appointments by now wouldn’t you, well for the majority of time I have.  I have been intent on putting aside half a day for a 5 minute appointment, I have also on occasions been intent on putting a full day aside for the very same 5 minute appointment because; we know for a fact that a hospital appointment is not to say that you have an appointment to be seen, it is there to say, get your ass up to the hospital along with another 10 patients for the exact same time appointment as yourself, and we will see you we get round to it.  I accepted this routine a long time ago, but when you’re in agonising pain and doped up to the friggin eye balls on pain relief, the last place that you want to be is sat bolt upright in a hard uncomfortable chair.

Sometimes the waiting gets the better of you, which is what happened last week.  I had 2 appointments on Tuesday 22^nd and a further 2 on Wednesday 23^rd.  2 hours into the waiting time to see my oncologist and was I was getting absolutely piggin bored stiff of playing my solitaire and losing badly, not to mention that my arse had took the shape of the seat perfectly and was totally numb, I sent Lee to get me a snickers bar from the coffee shop.  What else are you supposed to do; I couldn’t go out for a crafty fag, cos you could guarantee that I would have been called in, It’s like they have a radar implant in you somewhere bleeping constantly ‘Patient has left the building, Patient has left the building’ and then they get in there quick, resulting in you missing it and then having to start the whole friggin waiting period all over again.  I wasn’t supposed to eat either, I was on a 4 hour fasting for my CT scan later, but this sitting and boredom was just doing my head in a little too much, and when Mr Boredom peers round the corner, the only thing I know to do is eat or smoke.

Tuesday; It was 2.30pm when Lee and I were ushered into one of the side rooms.  Now this is where they try and trick you, make you think that it’s your time, when in fact they put you in these rooms to make you think your being seen, but leave you there for another half an hour to stare at some other walls and other smudges of dirt that are smeared across the doors ways, walls and skirting’s.  Today’s side room was also used as a store room for all their little gadgetry stuff, boxes of sterile wipes, plastic syringes, needles and boxes and boxes and boxes of gloves.  “We could do with some of them” Lee said looking over at the gloves. I laughed and said I wished I’d brought my big bag, cos they would come in handy for him washing the pots, get the him washing the pots bit, ha ha, I have one well trained hubby.

I was relieved when Mr blooming amazingly nice oncologist walked in.  He always makes me feel better, has always been honest with me and is one of the few doctors that I actually have any trust in.  Mr Nice Oncologist always likes to hear it from me why I have ended up in hospital, rather than just reading my notes and so the discussion was started.  My nurse was stood by, waiting for him to get round to doing a full body examination that she needed desperately to get me on the Wonder Drug Trial and to pin him down for my treatment plan (just in case I wasn’t picked out for the wonder drug), but just like my life for the past few weeks, or is it months now, I can’t remember, but anyway, things did not go to plan.  I thought I would be walking out of there with a date to commence treatment; instead my whole appointment was discussing my pain medications, dosage and referral to a hospice pain management doctor.  Mr nice oncologist told me he would not approve me for any treatment yet and needed to get my pain managed first. And so because of the stupid radiotherapy, I am now being delayed from treatment, which I can tell you is bloody frightening.  I have gone 5 weeks now without having anything. 3 weeks according to by hubby cos he says my last dose would have worked up until that point, but the fact is, I am having nothing to try and control the cancer.   My scan 4 weeks ago showed that I have further progression, so it comes hand in hand that going without treatment; the friggin squatters are not going to be stopped in its tracks and will continue to grow. 

As you can imagine with my emotional state lately, the tears started over flowing.  Mr Nice and perfect bedside manner oncologist brought me a box of tissues. I hate crying in front of him, Dam, I hate crying in front of anyone because it shows my weak side, which is exactly how I have been feeling for the past few weeks/months.  My appointment ended and I was given a prescription of quadruple strength pain medication to what I have been on and another appointment to see him on the 31^st, just over a week away.  

An hour to spare, and so I hobbled as fast as I could into the car (can still beat a snail so that is something) and went up the road to the Citroen dealer.  Roll on new mobility car wooo wooo.  Still not decided which one to go for, but it definitely won’t be another one of these C3 picasso’s, talk about rock and roll, you can’t go round a roundabout without rolling off the seat and into the door or the driver, and with the pains that I am having at the moment, this is definitely not a laugh about happy thing.

Back at the hospital, CT Scan and then hurray I could eat cos right then my stomach was grumbling that load I think it could be heard at the other end of the M1 and was being mistaken for some sort of road works. With not many patients waiting, ooh 3 in total, I thought this was going to be a quick get, stabbed, scanned and out, but oh no, why change with the way today has gone so far.  2 frickin long stupid hours and nearly an hour of that was me sat on me lonesome in the waiting room with 3 nurses stood around talking, which got me more infuriated because I was having to play dodge the stupid head from the one who kept standing between me and the bloody TV screen.  Lets face it, Location Location Location was on and if there is anything I like to watch on TV apart from my Corrie, is having a good bloody nosey inside someone else’s house.

My CT scan didn’t go as planned either.  The request was to have a full body scan and a brain scan, but Oh no the radiologist of the department decided it was way too freaking soon to have another one of the body (with the last one being 4 wks ago).   I was left strapped to the strolley while they tried to contact my nurse to find out what to do, even though I was at this point actually screaming at them that the full body was needed to get on the Trial.  I laid there with tears rolling down my cheeks.  The whole few weeks rolling around inside my mind, the pain, the waiting, the frickin squatters growing, the radiotherapy, the hospital visit, the Chatter Group palarva and not to mention the ‘Dr X’ situation.

The appointment ended of them just scanning my brain and being told that they would check if the body had to be done and if so, it could be done the following day while I was at the hospital having my radioactive bone scan.  Now correct me if I am wrong, but if the radiologist didn’t want to do a CT of my body because of the radioactive I’d already had 4 wks ago, then doesn’t it sound a bit hypocritical that he would be happy to do it when I have had a great large syringe full of radioactive pumped into my veins for the bone scan?  Bloody hypocritical if you ask me.

Wednesday; Lee and I decided that rather than both of us sat around waiting, that he would just drop me off at the hospital and I would ring him when I was done and ready to go home.  At least this way he could get some jobs done around the house, rather than wasting the precious time stuck to an uncomfortable chair.  For my bone scan, I was shouted through within half an hour whoopy dooo one for the Guinness Book of Records me thinks.  The first stage was to find a vein that had been left for them to use from yesterdays CT palarva (they stabbed 3 times).  Today they stabbed twice and injected the radioactive substance from a space age metal syringe.  After telling me the do’s and don’ts of not using public toilets (as I would crack the basin and probably scoot through through the air from the explosion with the loo still attached to my arse) and keeping away from children and pregnant women, I was free to go and fill in 2 and half hours for the radioactive substance to work its way round my body before heading back to have the actual scan done.  

Not wanting to waste any time sitting around, I went over to the Research Trial Clinic, to have my bloods done and my portcath flushed.  That in itself was a quick in and out.  So now what to do?  I couldn’t get a drink or a bite to eat cos I’d forgot my bloody purse.  Ha ha, Lee came to the rescue and drove back, handing me some dosh so I could go buy a picnic, well I would have thought I could have bought a picnic, but with the NHS blooming prices, I ended up with a sandwich and a small bottle of orange which the lady at the back of the till finished up having to put 5p in the till for me.  I sat outside in the sun and felt pretty good.  Pain was at a minimum and the heat from the sun relaxed me.

Back at the bone scan department I had to check with them that they had marked me back as returned as an hour went by.  Do they not realise we have better things to do with our time and do they not realise that we probably have more appointments to head off too after they have done with us.  Time was ticking on and I was beginning to wonder if I would get to my Heart Echo on time.  

There is something about Scans, whether it is an MRI or Bone density, but its a natural thing for me to nod off and take in some Zzz’s.  It probably has something to do with the equipment being so close to my bloody face that I have to close my eyes so no freaking out is done.  I hope I don’t snore, but what the heck, the machines are that blooming noisy no one would hear anyway.  The full body was done and then with the additional area’s they wanted to scan (pelvis and chest) I was done, the whole scan process took just under 60 minutes, leaving me 15 minutes to get to my Heart ECHO scan.

Now I really lost my temper.  After heading up to where they normally do the ECHO’s, the place that I have always had my ECHO, and after sitting for 15 minutes waiting for the receptionist to get off the phone to his mum, I was greeted with ‘you’re in the wrong place’  ‘What’ I thought, I had just come up 4 flights of stairs (ok with the aid of a lift) but that does not change the fact that I had to go back all the way to virtually where I had just come from and let me tell you , that corridor is as long as the A1.

I couldn’t find the place I needed to be and was getting angrier by the second, and very tempted just to jack it all in and go bloody home.  Best thing is Mr Nice Oncologist won’t let me have treatment until my pain is sorted; he said I needed to get plenty of rest and makes sure I took all my pain meds at the correct regular intervals.  How the hell am I going to get it sorted when I am traipsing around from one of the hospital to the other for 2 bloody days on the trot?  Plus I had popped ALL the pills that were in my bag and felt like I was turning into one of them junky drug people who would do anything to get a quick fix.

Eventually, I was laid on the coach with my top off and little sticky pads stuck all over me, with an ultra sound probe prodding around my left breast.  People don’t realise, but by having implant reconstruction, it makes it blooming well hard to get clear pictures of your heart.  Apparently the stuff inside the implant distorts, you can see the heart, you can see it beating, but to take measurements of the muscle etc, is just a mere impossibility, with the only way of getting the images is to stick the bloody probe deeper and deeper into your ribs, implant, stomach and jugular.  It’s one of them times that you would swear blind that you will walk out the room with a couple of cracked ribs and a burst implant.

It feels that my week has been taken up with a lot of time wasting, sitting around in a bloody hospital when I could have in fact been laying on my garden lounger in the glorious sunshine that we are having.  It hasn’t just been wasting time at the hospital, its been knowing what to do with my time when I am at home, I can’t be arsed to watch the TV, or do anything. 

Normally on occasions like this, when I am more immobile than usual, I take to facebook and spurring on and supporting people, makes me feel that I have actually done something constructive, but with my facebook gone, I have nowhere to go.    I received an email notification that even though my fb was inactive, I had been added to a group, then another email came through and another, so I logged on to remove it and stop my mobile phone flashing up every few minutes with stupid bloody emails.  I got the shock of my life.  The person who had caused my Chatter Group to close down had created a group; it was created just 2 days after me closing Chatter down.  Now you may think, well the girls need somewhere to go, I did too, but what got me was the post from the so called, what I used to think was a friend.  She had wrote “Lets keep this group secret cos I think Karen has had a Mental Break Down” What the Hell!!!   Ermmm ok, I have had a lot to deal with lately but for someone who is as fooked up as her, definitely does not have the qualifications to diagnose me as having a mental breakdown, plus if I had, it would have been all her doing.  Again this person got me bloody angry, which I got even angrier because the girls were agreeing with her.  To me a true friend would not have kept this secret, they would have told me.

I had a lovely evening at Pauline’s on Wed evening (23^rd), I cried on her shoulder a few times and we discussed my BreastCancer profile and Chatter.  Thanks to Pauline, she kicked me up the ass and made me see things from another point of view.  She was right, why should a lot of the women lose out because of one person.  After 2 glasses of wine (first in months) I felt better and agree’d with Pauline that I would reinstate my BreastCancer Karen Profile, but I would cut all ties from the person and that would involve removing any mutual friends that we had.  

I know I can be a stubborn cow, but the point of the post title ‘Waste of Time’ is just this.  I have to waste precious time waiting around in hospitals. I have to waste precious time, sitting in traffic getting there.  These waste of times, I know are a part of my life and without them I probably wouldn’t even be here writing this.  I have no idea what the outcome of my scans are as yet and no idea what is around the corner, but the one thing I can control is the time wasted on people who just don’t deserve my time or effort.  Like I said in my previous post; I felt alone and abandoned.  Re-activating facebook showed me I wasn’t alone and it took me days to go through the messages that were left.  I removed anyone that had anything to do with the Author of the book and will admit, I felt guilty by removing some of them.  We were friends long before the Author, but I felt that if I left one person, then it would give the others more ammunition to throw at me.  So if you are one of the people who were removed, I hope you understand, I needed to cut all ties with the author, the whole ordeal knocked me for six and seeing who I thought to be friends agreeing with her, put me on the whole ‘I don’t know who can trust thing’ As the saying goes, True friends will always be there, no matter what and as for the time wasters, well, No more time is being wasted from me, Cos this bitch is kicking back.

Am I Depressed???

This blog will probably have me in trouble, but at the moment I just don't give a shit, because things need to be said, to show how every little thing can accumulate to my already instable emotional status.

Some of you may have wondered where I have vanished too on facebook.  Well to cut a very long and painful story short; I’d had enough.  

Over the last month I have mentioned that I feel old and ugly and remarks of 'oh you look better in your wig' or jokes about my so called laughter lines just arn't getting the laughs back from me that they used to get. I could at one time take these jokes on the chin and laugh as much (if not more ) than the rest of you, even the point of me making fun of myself and how I look before anyone could get the chance to first. But I suppose there has to come a time when I say 'Fuck it'. Let's face it, writing my journal is my therapy not yours and if I need to get something off my chest then so be it. It is not to make you feel bad, it's to make you realise that just because you see me plastered with makeup, have my wig on and am smiling my bloody head off that inside it's a totally different scenario. I'm frickin screaming inside. Who the hell wants to walk around in an itchy hot wig all the time just be accepted into what is classed as the normal society. Well it sucks and I am more comfortable with no make-up, no wig and thrown across my sofa in my PJ's.  

Let's get something straight, if you have the sniffles, don't friggin complain to me and expect sympathy, try living with a constant sniffy nose from the treatment and medication I’m on.  If you wake up in a morning and have a stiff neck, or achy back or leg, then welcome to my world. Deal with it, try and give a thought to the thousands out there who are suffering constantly day after day, whether through pain from the cancer or emotionally and physically due to the toxin chemicals that are being pushed through your body every single second of every friggin day that leaves you a drooling snivelling zombie spaced out in the corner of the room.

So why have a snapped. Well it's plain and simple, I have tried hard this last year to fight the side effects of treatment, and look forward to getting some quality of life back that I never thought I would find again, I'm still looking especially with all the pain that I am enduring at the moment.  It's seems that no matter how hard I try to do the right thing, the right thing turns out to be wrong, so I'm in a no win situation no matter how you look at it.

Spending the week in hospital is probably the culprit of me feeling the way I am, hospitals just arn't a good place to relax and feel good about yourself.  How can they be, there is way too much time on your hands and laying there hooked up to a drip and looking like friggin death is defiantly not the sort of look people are used too, resulting in the tilt of the head sympathy look saying 'how you feeling'. Obviously me being me has answered every single frickin time with 'I'm fine' and with that stupid idiotic grin splat across my face.  Well I'm not fine. 

Sometimes I feel that I can't do right for doing wrong and probably with feeling so bloody crap I just wasn’t emotional fit enough to take on what I least expected when I got home, and that being a a whole group of women’s messages that inevitably had me in tears.  Oh don’t get me wrong some were nice (very nice) messages, but a whole friggin lot em weren’t and were of blame.   I felt used, abandoned and blamed for something that I didn’t even do.  

Ok so there was a book written about ‘Chatter’ the support group that I had created by one of it’s the members.  I proof read the book highlighted alterations, and was bloody well chuffed to the smithereens that it got published and that in a month had sold over 300 copies, raising nearly £200 for Macmillan Cancer Support.  I’d received some phone calls and private messages saying they were utterly shocked with the way the book opened, reading as though the author of the book (not me) created the group.  Some had downloaded the free version first but insisted that they would NOT buy the book until it had been amended and one was threatening to report the book.  What I didn’t expect was the verbal abuse that I got from the group members, because the author removed the book from sale (after or before) deleting me as a friend and herself from the group, just because I pointed out to her that I’d had some complaints sent to me and asked if it could be amended.  At the end of the day, my group was a support group, yes a SUPPORT GROUP to bitch and moan about anything to do with cancer and treatment, to help each other, not to bitch and moan about no bloody book.  I soon realised and felt that all the support that I had given, even from my hospital bed was one side.  I needed support and got none.  Not one member who complained to me about how the book had been written came to defend me, except in a private message, which was no bloody good.  Maybe if I had been in a better frame of mind and not doped up with morphine handled the situation differently.  Maybe, but the final straw was messages coming through telling me to take time away and hand the group back over to the Author WTF, she had nothing to do with the creation of the group, she was not admin and had been in the group for a total of 7 months baring in mind that she had removed herself once before just because I asked her to curb all the jokes.  May sound petty, but I don’t give a shit, it was my group.   I announced that the group would be closing and panic stations started of posts saying ‘Where will we go to chat?’ and then posts for other groups.  Not one was to say ‘Are you ok Karen?’ So Monday 14^th May 2012, BreastCancer Karen for the first time in years became inactive and with the help of my matey Pauline, the group ‘Breast Cancer Chatter’ that I created over a year ago was closed down, emptied of all its contents and deleted.  I cried as I watched each name disappear, I cried as each picture was removed and cried at the removal of the Prayer Events that were held for lovely members who we’d lost.  Even though I had Pauline to talk to that night, I have never felt so alone and not knowing who I could trust I shut myself away.  

On top of that, I also had emails to deal with regarding my complaint about ‘Dr X’.  I had emailed a couple of weeks before being admitted to hospital; giving them a dead line of May 17^th (the 5 yr mark to when I was diagnosed).  I got a reply saying that they thought that a satisfactory conclusion had been made back in 2101 and so my case had been closed.  As you can imagine I was downright bloody infuriated.  I’d sent a reply back but didn’t get a response back until I emailed them again on the 17^th telling me that I had to go through the proper channels and write in a complaint letter to the complaints department.  Errr excuse me, but didn’t I already do that FIVE YEARS AGO?   I spent all day, emailing back and forth, while trying to get my head together to write my name and shame document.   Unfortunately, because I got so stressed out and Lee making me put my laptop away the document wasn’t finished and so the hospital is probably thinking that they are safe and didn’t mean that I would name ‘Dr X’ and all involved with my complaint publicly.  Well they got another thing coming, cos when I get this document finished, I am going for the bloody jugular.     

The hurt that I have felt over this last week has left me totally confused, upset and very angry.  The little bit of self confidence that I had left has been crushed to nothing.  I have had to cope with being a doped up junkie for the pain that I am still in, the awful pain from being constipated and so bloody tired that I have spiralled down and down and down to the point of crying just because I wake up in the mornings.  So I guess the answer to the post title of ‘Am I Depressed’ is a big bloody massive YES.  Over the last week, I have lived in my PJ’s, I haven’t even been arsed to brush my teeth and so probably up to this morning stunk worse than poo.  I have cried more tears than I have in a life time, shouted and snapped at Lee for just being in the same room and shouted at the dogs and not paid them any attention at all.  All I’ve wanted to do is go to sleep. Lee has had to work overtime to keep me functioning and to be honest, I have no idea how he has kept control, because no matter what encouraging words he said to me, I have thrown negative back at him.  I threw in the towel, I just couldn’t take anymore and felt that this was my life from now on, constant pain, and being so bloody dizzy and high from the pain medication that I didn’t know whether it was night or day.   So much for my banner’s word of ‘A Positive Mind is Half the Treatment’ where has my mind gone, how did I let it all change?  That’s the problem with depression; it bloody sneaks up on you bit by bit just like frickin Cancer.

And then as if things couldn’t get any worse, Lee’s back went and when I say ‘went’, I don’t mean to a sunnier climate, I mean it as going from straight to curving all over the place, the ‘went’ meaning his disks (get the plural cos there is 2 sneaky buggers) popped right out from picking Luke up off the floor after falling off his scooter to take him to the hospital.  That evening and for the next 3 days all 3 of us were laid up; me with my latest problem, Lee with his prolapsed disks and Luke with a broken ankle.  We coped, because we had too because even now as I write this, not one person has been to the door.  We joked about putting a notice on the door ‘INVALIDS ABOARD’ but knew that no-one would see it anyways.  This in itself puts me into my feeling sorry for myself mood.  It worries and scares me with Lee’s back because if my mobility stays as it is, which I am hoping and praying hard that it’s just a temporary setback, but it scares me of how we would cope.  I know my mother’s answer would be to move back to Doncaster, but my home is here, it has been for the past 8 years.  My hospital is here, my wonderful amazing oncologist is here, my Bessie mate (Thank you Pauline) is here and another important factor is; my favourite one and only step-son Luke is here.

I suppose admittance to having a problem is the first step.  Yes I admit it; I have been pushed and pushed to the point of every little thing exploding into one huge atom bomb.  Maybe it serves me right for spending too much time thinking of others when in fact the person that needed the support was me all along.  I thought I was strong and positive, but yet without my group I have nowhere to go, to ask a simple question such as ‘How long will this pain last’ Another ironic thing is for a long time, Lee has told me I spent too much time on facebook, but seeing how everything has affected me over the last couple of weeks, he has been trying to talk me into re-opening the group.  He has realised that the group helped me too, but the group thing has been and gone, it’s in the past now.

Home at Last !

Well after a fantastic Bank Holiday yesterday, Today didn’t go to a very good start.  All weekend I have been waiting for today, so that the NHS could get their ass into gear and get me the MRI done on my spine to find out if the pain that I am having is due to the radiotherapy or ‘IF’ there is anything more sinister going on in my spine that needs attention, which is what has been going through my mind. When one’s legs just suddenly stop friggin working properly, one’s mind is bound to go into overdrive of fears ending up a cripple for the rest of my life and being pushed around in a wheel chair and being so totally out of it from the medication that one wouldn’t know whether they were coming or going.  ‘Drooling endless amounts of spit  in a corner springs to mind’.

Because the hospital have had me so bloody drugged up all weekend from all the morphine based medication, steroids and other stuff that I don’t even know what they are for, my pain today has in fact eased.  Get the word ‘EASED’ I didn’t say frickin gone. AND because of this, ‘get it’ they are now saying that I am not having a scan and can go home later today.  Excuse me, but I have been a patient patient here, waiting patiently for everyone to get back to work to get this done.  I could have had a strop and insisted that they carted me over to the other hospital and get the scan done on Friday, or Saturday or Even Sunday for that matter, when they told me why there was a delay.  Oh but no, I just sat there, dizzy from the meds, hallucinating and hobbling around in excruciating pain.  I am not a happy bunny.

I fought my case and told them that the pain had somewhat eased because I was so out of it with the pain meds, and so ended up going onto a pain relief strike.  Sounded like a good plan at the time and after the doctors and nurses rushed around for another hour or 2, agreed to do the scan.  Every hour I was approached with lots of pain meds and each time I turned them away.   I was not going to give in just for them to get my pain under control once again and then kick me out of the ward without the scan.  What if I had spinal cord compression, What if the vertebra they had targeted with the rads had become weak and collapsed onto the nerves that ran through that area.  These were the things going around in my loopy brain.   Being in hospital gives you way too much time with your own thoughts and if you’re not careful you will diagnose yourself with everything but the blooming kitchen sink, especially when your brain starts to become alert from the lack of pain medication that for the last few days has kept me asleep and comatose’d.  

Then the nurses said the scan would be on Friday, which I was not too happy about, talk about sending the referral off as urgent, that has to be a bloody joke.  I also know that there is no way on this planet that I can go without pain relief for that length of time, as the pain has bloody kicked in to the point of me becoming a bit of a cry baby and not wanting them to see that I am a cry baby, do this by hobbling to the loo’s or making my way down the lift and going for a crafty fag.  Ok Ok so I shouldn’t smoke, but what else is there to do.

I thought by going on pill strike and not taking steroids I’d get a good night’s sleep... So blooming wrong was I.  I was shattered, in constant pain that was getting worse by the second, but no matter how I tried to lie, I just couldn’t get comfortable or off to sleep.  Then everything went mad on the ward, a little old lady in the bed across from me was having a bit of hard time and had the nurses running around like maniacs.. ‘Yay for them being maniacs when maniac mode is needed’   I sneaked off the ward at gone 3am and found myself in tears outside puffing on yet another ciggie.  Mad, frustrated and in lots of pain, I was proper fed up.  Its times like this that I start to get angry towards ‘Dr X’ If she had listened to me, would I be here right now?  Nope I don’t think so, I would probably be one of them people that spent every day in fear that the dreaded C would come back.  Maybe it would have come back, but my anger towards ‘Dr X’ is a full on anger, slap around the face anger and make her live like I have for the past 5 yrs anger with the drug after drug and chemo after chemo, not to mention having my bloody boobs chopped off.  Is this normal for anyone to feel so much anger towards one person?  People tell me it’s not good and I should try and forgive her and move on, but how can I move on when every single day, I am fighting for a longer life. And that life being able to live it rather than the awful bed ridden sickyness year that I had last year.   I cannot forgive her, could you?

On Wednesday late afternoon, things just got too much for me.  The pain was full on, Ok I admit it wasn’t to the extent that it was when the ambulance came for me, but it was bloody well painful enough to the point that I felt sick, light headed and full on weepy.  I sent Lee a text, telling him to come get me cos I’d had enough, and then carried on chuntering on in the text that I’d had enough of it all and wanted out, even saying that if I knew how many pain meds to take for me to fall into a deep deep sleep of no return then I would take them.  Sorry but its how I felt.  Sometimes things just get too much and I can’t see any end to the pain and suffering. I know I’m now over exaggerating here, cos my life hasn’t been full of pain and suffering, I have had a good 5 yrs, I’ve done things and had lots of fun, but it’s just these short spells or pain, helplessness and frustration that things aren’t going to get any better that get me into this frame of mind.  I lay in my bed with tears rolling down my cheeks, when my nurse and doctor came round.  That was it I was in full chunter mode of gabbling to them about ‘Dr friggin X’ and that I’d had enough and wanted to end it all.  Of course Doctors being doctors, the first thing they push down you is... haaa you guessed it... pain meds.  Gave me a good handful they did.  They did give me some good news and told me that my MRI was booked for tomorrow (Friday) and then all being well I will be allowed home.

What have I said before DON’T PANIC THE HUBBY, well any text saying that you’ve had enough and want to end it, will do just that and whilst my doctors were with me, getting pills down my neck and trying to calm me down, I had constant ringing from my lovely hubby, of which I could not answer because of everything that was going on around me and my bed.

I apologised to Lee profusely afterwards and when I had calmed down, and even now I still feel bloody awful for doing that to him, but like he says, he’s used to my tantrums by now.  5 yrs will do that, but talking about swallowing pills is a no no, and I have had to promise I will never ever talk like that again.    This is the first time I am posting about how down I get sometimes, oh there has been many occasions, but with the Breast Cancer Story website everything is being published in order that it happened and as yet on there I haven’t got to them bits yet.  I suppose it’s because I was much stronger back then too and still looking forward to the fact that I would be cured.  As now, there is no cure for me, there is just control and right now the controlling stuff just ain’t doing such a good job.

I have to realise that a main part of my life is pain control; the awful pills that make you go ga ga.  To date I have taken them as and when needed which has worked for me, but with the excessive pain that I now have, I have realised that pain cannot be turned off within seconds or minutes of taking some stupid pills.  It took all weekend to ease the pain and yet through my own stubbornness, I let the pain return which then put me in a bloody foul mood and temper.  Would I do the pain relief strike again?  Not blooming likely.  I have learnt my lesson, I know I am stubborn and I accept that this as my downfall.  I hate getting down especially to the extent that I did do and wanting my life to end.  I am not a negative person and throughout the last 5yrs I have always come out on top, laughed, partied on and not let this cancer crap get the better of me, and I know that I have to get back to that same determined person.  I will get that person back; I had a minor melt down which I think I am allowed from time to time. 

My scan happened at 12.30pm which they timed just right; I was just about to tuck into my shepherd’s pie (oh yummy yummy hospital food is great).  Having been there and done it all before I knew the process, but for some reason today, whether it was because I was so freaking high from all the meds.  The fear of being enclosed in such a tight space got me breathing and gasping for breath, which I might add just doesn’t go too well with the already dizzy dizzy bloody head going around in ga ga land.  The whole scan took a mere 45 minutes with the added bonus of it feeling like 10 hours from the closterphobic feeling or hyperventilating from the pain meds and breathing.  I got through it; we always do and nearly fell over backwards from going all dizzy and sick as I got up from the trolley to get sat back in my wheel chair.  2pm and I was back on the ward... laying and waiting for results before I can go home.

It’s amazing but one minute there telling me I can’t go anywhere and have to wait for results and the next they’re kicking me out.  Apparently they need my bed and so with no clothes to go home in, I have to pack up my belongings and get the feck out of there.  Where am I supposed to go?  Oh yeah, the little day room with the upright positioned hard back chairs that will surely have my bloody painful legs feeling great in no time, not to mention keep me up right from all the nausea and dizziness I am experiencing.  Excuse me, but if the scan had been booked when it should have been let’s say for example ‘FRIDAY’ I would have been out of here on Tuesday.  Then as if that isn’t enough, apparently when one has had one’s scan, your pain miraculously vanishes, well so they doctors and nurses think, cos all they seem to be concerned about it getting their precious bed and none of my pain or nausea meds.

One minute I am ring lovely hubby to come pick me up, then I’m ringing him to hold fire.  I have to leave, I can’t leave, I have to have results, and they want the bed arghhhh I am so frickin confused, not to mention by now I have a very frustrated husband from not knowing what the feck is going on.  He drives half way to the hospital, and then drives all the way back home in a matter of minutes.  Well if the hospital thinks I am going to get the flack from this then they have another thing coming.  Do they not know by now that my husband has an even shorter fuse than me? 

By 5pm I get the super duper news that my MRI says yee haaa and there is no spinal cord or nerve compression.  The pain is caused by a flare from the radiotherapy and so I just have to take the pain relief and wait for it to ease on its own. How long? No one knows, it’s the piece of string story.   My cannula is taken out of my portacath and within 10 minutes the hospital had their precious bed and I was on my way home with one bloody happy and relieved hubby.

For those of you who know me, you will already know where I headed... straight for a long soak in my bath. 

It’s so good to be home, I still have quite a lot of pain and am still very drozy from all the meds but at least I have my home comforts (my laptop for one) and the peace of mind that nothing more sinister is wrong in my spine apart from the friggin squatters we already know about.

Its always good to get in your own bed and I caught up with the last week of sleepless nights by going straight through for 13 hours. (Oh my! I sound like I’m talking about a baby ha ha)

I would like to take this opportunity to apologise to all who have had to endure my painful posts to facebook and even worse text messages.  Being home now for just 1 day, I have had it brought to my attention that my spelling has been absolutely atrocious and on the majority or texts, words could not be made out to what I was actually saying.  As I have said before, I was a dumb blonde in my past life, I find it funny when the hospital say there are going to do a brain scan (funny that they actually think I have a brain and can find one) and on top of being so blooming dizzy as the norm, these super drugs of morphine just don’t help.  Well from what I can gather, is that they help big time in keeping everyone amused with my spelling, wrong words and totally going off in the wrong direction with a subject..  Which reminds me of a conversation I had on the phone with my mum, I can’t remember what it was, but I do know that I suddenly blurted out ‘Oh the dickie birds’ when in fact she was talking about something totally different.  Well at least it gave her and Lee something to laugh about.   I’m still on the meds and recuperating, so be pre-warned, if you text me.    I have tried to clean up my last 2 blogs before posting to make them readable from the jargon that I wrote whilst in my hospital bed.

Its so good to be home, I have my 2 dogs laid beside me and the most gorgeous considerate patient man that I have ever had the pleasure to know.  Lee, I love you and so proud to call you my husband MmWhaaaa xxx  

Now to catch up on my Corrie!!!

Stick Your Tongues Out To Cancer

You never expect the least expected, especially when the unexpected is from a crazy bunch of ladies that I have had the honour of knowing through the support group  that I created over a year ago called ‘Breast Cancer Chatter’, along with a list of friends I have come into contact with on my breast cancer profile too.

It all started when I posted the not so good news regarding my CT Scan, immediately I received messages of support, well wishes and anything upbeat that they could possibly thing of with the majority telling me to kick ass.  There were however some messages of sheer shock and horror that my news was definitely not the news that they were expecting to hear, and through them I realised that they were indeed hurting and frightened to death for me.  I suppose with the added stress of losing some lovely friends to this awful disease since January this year already, the bad news like I had just received, just made them worry that things had started to go in the same direction for me.  Hey but come on!, this is me were talking about and even though the news wasn’t frickin great, I have not taken it has being the bloody freaking, panicking, losing my mind thing that I am going to die sort of news.  I see it has a sort of good thing, that my great team of doctors have been watching me closely and have been on the case of finding me my next treatment plan even before the results came in.  There is a plus side too, as this new trial that I about to embark on looks to be very promising indeed, and has had some amazing results so far with other patients who have been on it, and like all of us out there who have cancer, We live wishing and hoping for the cure, wishing that one day we will receive that one treatment that will obliterate our cancer to kingdom come.  So you never know; this could be the one for me.

I don’t like people worrying about me, and defiantly don’t like them being upset. You get upset only results in me getting upset and so, just as I was about to walk of the front door with my Bessie mate Pauline who was taking me to the pub for a good old drinkies, I took a picture of me sticking out my tongue, uploaded it to my facebook wall and captioned it ‘Ready for the Pub and Saying Fuck You Cancer’     My objective was plain and simple, it was merely to show everyone that I was indeed ok, and still the mad Kazza that they had come to know.  I had no idea what would become of it, and while sat in the pub later tucking into the biggest mixed grill ever that could have fed a thousand people and of course drinking my extra large dry white wine and soda, Pauline and I logged in to facebook to post on how our evening was going, what we saw had us in hysterics.

In just 1 hour the picture had received 31 comments and the whole wall of the ‘chatter’ group had changed in appearance, instead of being a normal support group of the girls chatting about breast cancer, asking for advice or just venting out their frustrations, I logged into find lots and lots of bloody great big tongues sticking out everywhere, and all of them saying 'Fuck you Cancer'. It didn't stop there either, pictures of monkeys, dogs, and cats started to go on too and then my profile wall started to get invaded with the what appeared to be one big disease of tongue mania.

Pauline and I had a fantastic evening.  I had lots of hugs from Pauline that she was ordered to pass on from everyone in the group and by the time we had gotten to the twentieth hug or so, Pauline and I started to get some really weird looks, which were obviously looks of 'oooh there lesbians'. Why is it that friends can't hug to show how pleased they are too see each other anymore, without it getting out of context, there was no holding hands or kissing, so the only reason I can think of, was my boyish good looking charm lol.  After drinking my 2nd glass of white wine spritzer and being total and utterly off my face pissed, Pauline took me home. Giving me an extra big hug as she left on top of the thousands she had already given to me.  The night was fantastic, who says you have to be morbid and miserable when you get bad CT scan results. Life is for living and having fun and that is just what I did.

The following morning (Thursday) my sides hurt with laughing. The group wall and my wall had gone completely bonkers with big tongues, little tongues, animal tongues, and multi coloured tongues. Laughing uncontrollably I posted an update to my wall 'change your profile pic and stick your tongues out to say fook you cancer for 48hrs' to see how many of my friends who really mad nutters.  Ha haaa, yup, ALL my friends are totally utterly bonking mad, their crazy, because as soon as I posted it, the tongues kept rolling in and fast.  Till today I had not realised how completely bonkers my facebook friends are, and yet they call me MAD KAZZA.m  How dare they call ME mad when they are doing things like this, you see it didn't just stop with just them, they were now sitting there families down and forcing them to stick there tongues out too, so pictures of nieces, nephews, sons, daughter, granddad's and even a newly born baby appeared.  I cannot explain in words how all this made me feel, but to try and tie it up into one little sentence, I would have to say ‘Bloody Special’.

On Friday I went along for my one super high dose of radiotherapy to my L6 vertebra of my spine.  Easy peasy, so I thought, well I have had rads to my spine before and knew all the ins and outs of it, such things as the pain can get worse before it gets better sort of thing.  Who the hell was I kidding? An hour after the rads, I started vomiting, another hour later my legs started to feel funny, the pain set in, but yet at the same time they felt all tingly and numb.  Hubby came running to the rescue, “You OK Girly” he shouted as he came running upstairs at which point i couldn’t answer through the snotty tears that were now rolling down my cheeks.  The tears weren’t the only thing rolling either, as I was now in that much agony that I had starting rolling around all over the bloody bed trying to get some sort of comfort and ease.   Lee tried to massage my legs for me, hoping that it would help, but I couldn’t keep still long enough to even give it chance.  Lee took charge completely when I went to get up for another wrenching session on the loo and my legs gave way, he rang the hospital.  Now my surname is Goodwin, I have been Mrs Goodwin for 2 and a half years, but oooh no, not today I wasn't.  Brilliant sexy hubby was in so much of a panic that he gave the wrong name, 'Karen Roberts' he spluttered out and then after a good 5 minutes of the nurse at the other end of the phone trying to find this patient names ‘Roberts’ that they had early, he panicked and very quickly tried to correct the mistake. 

Ironic, but I have now learnt that pain makes you sick, the more pain that you are in, means the more vomiting you will do, and that is just what happened with me, more, which then inflicts more pain from the wrenching of the stomach muscles.   To stop vomiting, you have to take non stoppy vomit pills, but how do you take them when you can’t stop throwing the buggers straight back up.

The plan was that Lee was going to drive me to the hospital, but from seeing me get worse so rapidly, Lee changed his mind and rang for an ambulance. Can you believe it; he gave the ambulance people the wrong blooming address. ok easy mistake to make, with us only living at our current address for a mere 8yrs , with the added plus of me never living at the address he gave either, and neither has he for over 10 yrs. Luckily he corrected it before hanging up the phone and getting back to me to try and massage my very pain full legs again.  He realised that he had still given the wrong house number. Now this is when I relished that my very sensible and in control husband wasn't in control at all and was in totally freaking out panic mode. Obviously with me crying out in pain and demanding he take the pain away from me didn't help him.  Must make a note for the future... DO NOT PANIC HUSBAND.

The paramedics hadn’t even gotten up the stairs when I was shouting out for morphine or anything else they had to get rid of my pain, Gas and Air, went down a treat and my fear of needles completely vanished as I shouted ‘Just stick it in me’.  With the fandabadozy morphine working its way around my body, I got my first free and only one I hope, ambulance ride.   Some more morphine later and a partially deaf ambulance driver and paramedic from all the jabber jabber I was doing on the way to the hospital, which is a norm for me to go full speed ahead of talking absolute nonsense when I get into a panic, I was admitted onto the hospital ward and waiting for doctors to come ad assess me.

Doped up with morphine and pain meds sure does help with pain, it helps with hallucinating too and at 2.15am, I was happily watching and laughing away to the dickie birds perched on the curtain rail that was around my bed singing 'come fly with me'. Ha ha so know I know that I have definitely gone off the rails and will definitely be admitted into the Phyco ward very soon.

The sticky out tongue pictures and comments that were still being bombarded across Facebook kept me laughing and on Sunday evening I got another shock. Talk about playing on your emotions, the lovely Kate Harbridge linked and tagged me to a short video she had created. A video of all the tongues that had been sent and were still circulated profile pics, all played to the music of 'we'll stand together'. I cried and I laughed and I cried some more realising that not only was I there for all these girls, but that these girls had pulled out all the stops to show how much they cared and are they for me too.

(update on 20th May - sorry the video has been made private cos someone complained WTF)

How does anyone want to spend a back holiday weekend and bank holiday Monday, well a hospital bed is not the place that you can have your normal bank holiday nutty days experience, saying that, even though my pain seems to be controlled with the endless amounts of pain medication to the extent that they were now keeping an eye on my pupil size (size of pin pricks due to maybe slightly overdosing on the stuff) not to mention the red bloated face from the addition of steroids. This hospital is where I actually want to be as I know I'm in the right place to get the right pain relief I need and the checks required to make sure everything is as it should be internally. ( roll on tomorrow for my MRI.)  

Left to Right
Pauline Edewards, Pauline Castledine, Penny Stanton &  Dawn Sheldon

Anyways visiting times has never been a big deal for me, my family love nearly 70 miles away and so it's usually Lee rushing back and forth to try to keep me occupied as much as possible. Today, Pauline turned up first, then my mum with my younger brother Neil and his future wife Kez. What more could I have wanted. (to be out of pain and in the pub would have been nice but...) An hour later, and an almighty noise hit the ward 'what the feck' I though and as unturned round 4 familiar faces appeared through the doorway. Dawn Sheldon, Kate Harbridge and Penny Stanton, who I have up to now only know through the virtual world of facebook and they were accompanied with the nutty Pauline Edwards.  Fully equipped with bottles of vodkacillan and vinocillan that they had kindly drank on their long journey getting here, they also had badges of special instructions of vodcacillan to attach to my drip line bag and not forgetting a space alien gun to shoot down my hallucinating dickie birds from the curtain rail late in the evenings.  My quite little ward was no longer quiet as these amazing girls told their stories how they got there from different parts of England and Wales. Pauline Castledine was in on the secret the bugger.

Left to Right
Dawn Sheldon, Me, Pauline Edwards, Penny Stanton & Kate Harbridge

I felt a bit awkward at first as my mum and family had come for a visit, and probably wanted to talk about serious stuff of how I am actually doing, about the pain and about what the doctors were saying, but what could I do? The girls had them laughing too in no time so I am hoping they were ok with it all and had as much fun as I did.

Vodkacillan and Vinocillan

Laughter is the best medicine and even though I felt totally drain after everyone had gone, and fell off to sleep within seconds I felt good, the feeling that I am loved by so many and that I am not alone in this journey of fighting the blastered squatters.

My gorgeous hubby arrived for the last visiting at 7pm with Luke, a nice quiet visit which consisted of them polishing off all my grapes that our Kez had brought in earlier.

I am laid in bed now totally knackered and reliving the fantastic day that I have had over and over. All off you made my day so special, you made me feel special, and over this past week since getting my scan results you have a been there to help me through and kept a smile on my face. I love you all xxxx

P.S  sorry if its a bit ga ga, I'm bloody stoned lol

CT Scan and Friggin Crap

I know I haven’t uploaded my cycle 6 chemo yet but what the heck, I suppose I can do it later.  I just have to get a few things off my chest and in perspective.  Yesterday I went along to have my every 3^rd cycle of chemo CT Scan which to be honest I already had a real gut feeling that I knew what the results were guna be, with what I ending my post with on the 22^nd April: cos at the moment my mind is doing the over drive bit. Its cancer in my rib cage, its cancer under my arm, its cancer, its cancer, its cancer and its fooking growing out of control which means that the chemo aint working.

Let’s face it, when you come from someone who has had moderate pain with some days that have been totally pain free, to someone who has been in excruciating pain which is constant and getting worse by the day, one has the ability to know one’s body.  Firstly, there has been my back, Ok yeah so I know the cancer is in my spine, it has been since April 2009, but that has always been in the Cervical (Neck) area and a few lesions in the Thoracic (upper back) area and since I had the radiotherapy and the spinal fusion surgery, I haven’t really had much problem.  The pain that I have now has me doubled over.  I have been unable to sit comfortably, been unable to straighten up as I walk, climb stairs or even turn over in bed.  The pain spread into my left hip area that has felt like it’s going to pop out of its socket at any moment.  Lee has had a back problem since I have know him and earlier this year found out that he has an old fracture to one of his vertebra and 2 prolapsed disks.  He has watched me endless times try and lift up off the sofa, hang on for dear life as I’ve tried to climb the stairs and watched me twinge with every move.  I have been blaming this pain on my hip, and been thinking that the cancer has spread there, but Lee however has said differently and told me many times that the pain sounds like it has come from my back but from holding myself different to relieve the pain, it has caused muscle tension in my hip.    

Then there has been the pain in my chest, my right breast or should I say, manmade boob, well the pain went from there to under my arm and felt like I had boulders pressing deep down on me.  This pain was new and even though I have tried to shrug it off and diagnose myself with having lymphodema because the pain then spread up through my neck nodes, to my ear and jaw, was still in my mind that maybe it could be the cancer that has spread.

For my last cycle of treatment my brilliant oncologist subscribe me some new pain relief as the only effect that the oramorph and gabapentin were having, were sending me bloody drowsy.  The new stuff of OxyContin and OxyNorm are working and this past couple of days I have started to feel more normal.

Well you don’t want to hear me gabbling, so let’s get straight to it.  My CT Scan results are as follows:  Chemo not friggin working and I have progression... and of course me being me, I had to ask, how much the awful stuff wasn’t actually doing the job it was supposed to be doing.  Today I say Lady Oncologist and she hesitated at first, probably because she didn’t want to upset me.  Surely she should know by now that I only get upset when things are kept from me or they fuck up.  Well come on, you don’t start an oncology appointment with “How have you been this last 3 weeks” when you know there are bloody results to read out.  Nor do you start off the conversation by saying “Has Mr Nice Oncologist mentioned to you about the Herceptin Trial” Now when they start talking different treatments, you know dam well that what is said on that pathology report is not really what you want to hear, but at the same time you want to know every intricate detail of what is on it, and so   I cut out all the crap, (Ha ha, and here I am doing the same and giving you all the crap first) anyway I’ll carry on, I blurted out “My CT has shown progression ain’t it”  Lady Oncologist, gave me a little concerned smile and whispered “yes”.  “So the chemo ain’t working” I gabbled on trying to make out that I had full control of how this appointment was going to go.  “No” she once again answered with her very quietly spoken voice.  Now some peeps will leave it at that, and oooh I have done in the past, but 5 yrs makes you into an information gobbling person that wants all the nitty gritty no matter how unpleasant it is.

Ok, so here goes; there is further progression in my liver, further progression in my spine and has spread down to the lumbar area (ha ha friggin back pain is explained), there seems to be no evidence of cancer in my left hip but Mrs Onc said that the way I have described it would tie in with the lumbar vertebra that has mainly been effected, I think she said L6 but don’t quote me on this cos by now my brain was going into overdrive and trying to get the question out about my boob and underarm.  Should have kept my gob shut as usual, as the answer is what I already knew.  Probably metz to the rib cage. 

Radiotherapy is being booked for my lower spine.  I will have one good blast at it and whey hey; it will most probably give me diahrea, because my bowl is in really close proximity.  Why do they always use the words ‘Most Probably’?  

I had a real good chat with the research nurse, who explained in great detail about the Herceptin Trial that I will be going on.  The trial is called ‘The Theresa Study’. There are 2 groups to this study and I will be randomly selected by chance for one of the groups. I will have a 67% chance of being picked for group 1.

Group 1; will receive the new wonder drug ‘Trastuzumb emtansine (TDM1)’ which is the experimental drug that is the Herceptin but with the added ingredient of a chemo.  Now the herceptin part works in the exact same way of blocking the cancer from eating the protein by putting a protective barrier around it, it’s at this point that the chemo part kicks in and attacks the cancer cell.  

Group 2; will receive a treatment regimen selected by my physician which is called TCP (Treatment of Physicians Choice) This could be a number of things, and would include Pacletaxol if I hadn’t already had it, and listening to Joanne my nurse think that it would be Carboplatin if I was randomly picked for this group due to Mr Nice Oncologist discussing it with me the last time I saw him.

My nurse explained the protocol and said that once I had signed the paperwork, the ball would be set rolling for the numerous scans and stuff that had to be done before treatment commenced.  I signed and initialled every little box to get things rolling and so now I wait to go have an ECHO on my heart, a BRAIN SCAN, a FULL BODY CT SCAN and a HEAD TO TOE MRI (Bone Scan)

Lee thought that maybe I should do what I’ve always done and take the form away to read first, and bring take it back tomorrow signed, but why bother, I have always finished up signing before and like any trial, if I decide I against it, I can withdraw at any time.  When I get to this place, the place of waiting, I bloody hate it and its all based on the facts that previous treatment hasn’t worked and there has been progression, so the weeks that it can take to get started again can only result in one thing and that is more further progression.

I am not down about the news, I know my team of oncologists are always a few steps ahead, which has been proven today as it was 3 weeks ago with Mr Nice Oncologist asking and double checking with my all the treatments that I have and haven’t had.  Apparently it sounds as though he already knew the outcome of my scan and just needed the confirmation of the scan to get my treatment plan changed, as 6 weeks ago, he told me that my tumor markers had come down.  Mrs Oncologist today, confirmed that they had gone up considerably at my last appointment 3 weeks ago and have still climbed over this last 3 wks.

I think the most scary thing right now is that very soon I will be having all these scans and will very soon know the exact situation of how much cancer there is in my body. It’s been a bloody long time since a bone scan was done of my whole body, as all MRI’s have been to check that my bionic parts in my neck are still bolted in place. Over this last week I have been telling myself that the pain that I have been having around my back and hip could be arthritis, well it could be couldn’t it, after all I have been post menopausal for 5 yrs and in the high risk category for osteoarthritis especially with the added factor that it blooming well runs in my family.  On the upside, at least I will know one way or another if all these highly probably cancer areas are in fact cancer. I will just have to wait and see and still having the same attitude that I won’t worry until there is something to worry about, for now I am not worrying.  

I immediately phoned my mum, who surprisingly took it very well this time, normally she goes off into chunter mode while I try and explain everything.  Ok so what if I go around a roundabout 15 times to get to there, but I try in my own way to put things in the best way I can without frightening the crap out of everyone. As promised I text Pauline mi bessie mate and then text my future sis-in-law who replied back in seconds that she was in tears and wanted to give me a big hug cos she bet I needed one.  With the sounds of it, she needed the hugs more than me and knowing my mum more than she realises, probably she could do with some too.  Yeah it’s ok saying that I hide things, you lot are the worst there ever is.  Well from me anyway.  As for Pauline, the softy, I am now looking forward to having a great big hug from her when she picks me up at 6.30pm to take me for a bloody long awaited drink.  Tonight was either guna be a celebration or a lets just pissed for the sake of it.  I have approximately 4 weeks of no treatment, not crappy chemo and I bet you have guessed this already, I’m guna make the most of it, enjoy every moment of my energy levels rise again, stuff the pain meds and suffer the consequences cos this girl is taking her life back and guna have a bloody good drink and start drowning these unwanted squatters.

Great timing of the brilliant Tess in the Radiotherapy department, just received a quick phone call from her to say that I will be measured up for rads tomorrow at 2.45pm and will have my one blast at 10.12am Friday.